Wanted
by Vous Etes Belle
Summary: One-Shot, if requested it will be continued. Charlottle falls in love with a Violet-obsessed Tate, though eventually he begins to love Charlotte back. Inspired by the song Wanted by Hunter Hayes. Previously named To Die Is To Live In His Head
1. To Live In His Head

The first time I saw you, I knew I had to have you. You were frightening and yet, you were so beautiful. I moved in to the 'Murder House' and I saw you, staring out the window at me. Then the girl, the one you loved, Violet was her name. She walked past you and you were gone. You visited me at night, not to scare me, but to protect me from the others in the house. The ones you said who would try to scare me. They tried, but you protected me. You told me of your love for Violet and all the terrible things you had done. You must have thought I was crazy, because none of it scared me. The only thing that scared me was you. You and your frightening beauty.

You asked me my name and the asked why I seemed so sad. I had a great relationship with my parents and I was going to be valedictorian. I said because I felt alone, lonely. A crushing loneliness that left me feeling empty. You said that I didn't have to be lonely anymore, that I had you. My protector, my savior. You told me to never view you as a saint. I couldn't, but I couldn't believe you were evil. That Violet and her family hated you. It was only a short time after that I had fallen in love with you. You didn't love me, you still loved Violet. You would always love Violet, but she couldn't bring herself to love you. I told you, right then and there, to hit me. Let out all your frustration and emptiness onto me.

You said you wished you could love me. I was perfectly frayed, you said. I was frayed, my mind was always centered on you and the fact that you couldn't, wouldn't love me. We moved out a month later, the others had gotten to my parents. I still visited, though. I came back and sat in the cool, wooden floor of the room that Violet and yourself had died in. You told me I was lucky, that I could find someone normal and be happy. I dated, I told how none of them made me feel whole. I told you that the emptiness went away when you were with me. It wasn't enough for you.

Sometimes, when you would look over my shoulder longingly, I knew she was there. Watching and listening to every whisper and secret. She knew of my loneliness and mocked me with it. She wasn't lonely, she had her family. She had you, the one thing that didn't make me feel lonely. It was so cliche that it felt idiotic just thinking it. I felt as if I was going crazy, watching you love her and longing for you to love me. You said you wished you could love me.

Once school was over and I had finally graduated, I used graduation money and money I had saved since I was 8 to buy the 'Murder House'. You were so delighted, yet everyone else hated it. She didn't though, she thought it was a lovely idea. I felt jealousy and resentment towards her and I took it out on you. I began to drink and take drugs to spite you, yet you continued to protect me. It made me feel hatred towards you. I was so mad that when you touched me, I wanted to rip your hands to shreds. You told me it was the house that was making me crazy. I smacked you and instantly felt disgust at myself. You just hugged me, so tightly to keep my hands at my side. I'd bring men to the house to make you angry. I could tell because you began to get angry at me. You called me a whore once and then we began to cry. We held each other as we cried for what couldn't be. I wanted to die, to be with you in that house. An easy suicide. You told me to see someone and I did. I began seeing Dr. Samson, a psychiatrist that prescribed me anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. You hated what they did to me, I wasn't me anymore. I began to judge your past, to call you a monster like Ben Harmon always did.

I wasn't leaving and the rest were finally warming up to me as you became cold. Oh, Tate, my love grew stronger day after day. I didn't look in mirrors, I knew how I looked. My dark brown hair was flat, greasy, and washed-out. There were large dark circles and bags under my eyes from my sleepless nights. Did you understand what you were doing, Tate? Did you know that I didn't have to commit suicide because you were killing me slowly? You didn't and you didn't care. You kept telling me you loved me as I walked out the door. You screamed my name as I opened the gate and stepped out onto the hot, black pavement from earlier. Night had fallen, it was a particularly dark night, as I saw the bright headlights of the oncoming car. You kept screaming and screaming and I covered my ears as I felt the breathtaking hit to my torso as I went flying in front of Constance's house. Before I truly died, she pulled me onto the property and you ran to me. Your hands became a comfortable warmth as you whispered my name. Once the ambulances showed, Constance fought and brought me into the house.

When I had awoken, I was in the basement. I realised that I had never been down there before. You kept me from going down there. It was dark and damp then a bright light was turned on and I squinted my eyes. Constance, Moira in her young form, Violet and her family all stared at me. You sat in an antique rocking chair, your face plastered with worry. You looked at me, you were stoic. You whispered my name again, but didn't move. Everyone else disappeared and you finally stood. You screamed, no words, just screaming. You sat down in front of me and grabbed my hand.

You asked me why I did that. You observed me and I told you that I was done being lonely, that maybe if I was dead, the loneliness would disappear. I told you I was wrong, that I know you still loved Violet and that no matter what i did I couldn't make you love me. You let out a small chuckle and said that if I hadn't jumped in front of that car and just stayed, I would have known that you were going to say that you loved me. You smiled as you moved next to me and pulled me into your side.

You whispered that now we can be together for always and that you loved me.

"Charlotte, for _always_."


	2. The Plague of Loving Things

**[Six Months Earlier]**

"Charlotte, cheer up," my mother said excitedly. She had always wanted to leave Ohio and moved to California. I give her a small smile and turn the volume up on my iPod. Born To Die played loudly as I looked out the window to the outstretched highway. My mother placed a hand on my knee and smiled comfortingly. I know we needed this move, to get away from our past.

That's what my family did, we ran when things got hard or too crazy. Things definitely got crazy at our old home. I pushed away the memories as we finally arrived to the house. I saw a boy with shaggy blonde hair staring out the window at me. I got out and he disappeared after a girl walked past him. I grabbed two boxes of mine and began to walk inside. As I stepped in, an elderly woman with shockingly red hair smiled at me and said, "You must be the daughter. Such a pretty girl." She touched my hair, letting it slip slowly through her fingers. "Such dark hair." I gave a polite smile and walked away, heading upstairs.

I walked into the first room I saw. The light filtered through the dust-covered window. I placed the boxes in the corner and decided to walk around the house. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen where my mother was fiddling with something over the stove.

"Marcy said it's a spaghetti arm," she said, confusion in her voice.

"Why does someone need a spaghetti arm?" I asked and she just shrugged.

"Oh, have you met Moira?" my mother asked and gestured to the woman who had touched my hair. I nodded and stared at her intently.

"You have beautiful eyes. So blue," she complimented. I thanked her and walked out of the kitchen. I saw my father in the office, looking intently at the walls. I just shook my head and walked away. I don't know why, but I felt compelled to the door at the end of the hallway. The basement.

"Charlotte, lunch!" my mother hollered. I gave a confused look and walked back to the kitchen.

* * *

I sighed as I laid onto my mattress, which was just on the floor. My dad said that the rest of our stuff wouldn't be here until next week. Posters cluttered the walls in a non-orderly fashion; pictures of friends and family cluttered a corkboard I had hung earlier.

"At least someone knew how to do it right," I heard a voice say. I shot up and looked around my room. The boy from earlier stepped out of the darkest corner in my room.

"Do what right?" I asked and he sat down.

"The whole cutting, suicide thing," he said as he grabbed my arm, revealing the dark pink scars the littered my arm.

"Obviously not, since I'm still here," I said and he smiled.

"I'm Tate. What's your name?" he asked as he released my arm.

"Charlotte. My name is Charlotte," I said quietly. He ran a calloused finger down my arm, tracing the scar that ran from my wrist to my elbow.

"Why'd you do it?" His dark eyes met mine and I answered immediately.

"I felt alone, lonely. It got so crushing and I felt so empty." I shifted my eyes to my bed, no one had asked me why I had tried to kill myself. Everyone just assumed I was crazy.

"You don't have to be alone. I'm here," he said and gave a faint smile. I returned the smile and then furrowed my brow.

"How did you get in here?" I asked and he looked up at me.

"I'm dead," he replied nonchalantly. I let out a small scoff and rolled my eyes.

"Yeah right. There's no such things as ghosts," I said as I mindlessly checked my phone.

"Are you sure?" he asked and I looked up. I let out a small gasp as he disappeared. I shook my head, deciding that I just dreamt that he was here. I reasoned with myself. I haven't gotten much sleep and I'm just hallucinating. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to take over.

* * *

The smell of bacon and cinnamon buns woke me up and made me jump out of bed. I loved my mother's cinnamon buns, they were so delicious.

"Good morning, Charlotte," she chirped.

"Good morning, ma," I said and took a bun.

"A boy left you a note this morning," she informed and handed me the note.

_It was wonderful meeting you, Charlotte. May I call you Charlie? ~ Tate_

I crumpled up the note and tossed it into the nearby trash. My mother just smiled comfortingly and patted my shoulder. I realised that she did that often, making sure I didn't break down again.

"He seemed like a nice young man, very cute," she chirped and walked out of the kitchen. I just gave a simple eye roll and left the kitchen. I went back into my room and gave a exasperated sigh.

"Why did you throw my note away?" A voice asked, causing me to gasp. Tate chuckled and smiled at me. He stepped closer to me and I pressed myself to the door, trying to put distance between.

"Listen, you can't just come in here. This is my room, my house." I furrowed my eyebrows and scowled. He just chuckled dryly and stepped back a few paces. I left out a breath of relief and pulled away from the door.

"This used to be my room. It's a great room," he said, scanning the room. His eyes stopped at my Nirvana poster and he smiled at me.

"I have to get ready for school. So, if you could leave, that'd be great," I snapped. He sat down on my bed and crossed his legs.

"I'm good," he retorted. I shrugged and pulled off my t-shirt. I could feel his eyes on me as I dug through the large box of my clothes. I finally pulled a shirt out of the box and turned around. A quiet gasp escaped as I felt him touch my side. I jumped away from him and landed, not so gracefully, on my butt.

"_Charlotte? Are you okay?_" my mother yelled from the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah, mom. I just fell," I shouted as I glared at him. A smirk adorned his face as he held out his hand. I ignored it and stood by myself. I pulled on the tee and said, "Listen, you need to leave. You can't watch me get changed and touch me and shit. It's weird and it's just plain creepy." He just continued to stare at me and I could feel my blood boiling beneath my skin. "Go away." His brows furrowed and he disappeared, as if he never existed. I shook my head and continued to dress.

* * *

Teens passed around me, like swarms of locust. I knew that my face didn't look friendly and I was new. Who wants to talk to the new kid? I walked to the office, my binders acting as a barrier between me and everyone else. No wonder I felt alone, I made myself alone. The principal gave me the most fake smile I had ever seen and guided me into his office.

"Charlotte Lovelace, straight A student. Not a troublemaker. Hm, interesting," he said to himself. "You have a marvelous record, but it says here that you're on suicide watch." This was obviously to me, but I couldn't say anything. I knew I was on suicide watch and I knew why. I just gave a casual nod and he yelled for one of the students in the office.

"Charlotte, this is Lila. She'll show you around the school, keep an eye on you. Have a great first day," he said and then went back to looking at my records. Lila, a blonde cheerleader, you have got to be fucking kidding me. She was perky and way too excited to be helping me. As soon as we left the office, her whole demeanor changed. She gave me a disgusted look and said, "It's like 90 degrees outside and you're wearing all black. What are you, emo?" She gave a hyena laugh and walked away from me.

I could feel my hands shaking and my heart thundering in chest. I began to run. Running always helped clear my head and forget my troubles. I don't know where I was running to, but when I saw my house and I saw no car in the driveway, I ran inside. I threw my bag on the couch and walked to my room. All of my furniture was here and in the right place, all my clothes were hung in the closet and folded neatly in the dresser.

"Mom," I said to myself and fell onto the bed.

"You lasted more than an hour, congrats," Tate said. I turned around and he smiled. I smiled back and felt the tears sting my eyes. I scooted back and laid next to him. He put his arm around me and I closed my eyes.

"I think I'll just do online school. I can't do it. I can't be there," I whimpered. "I'm not strong enough to do it."

"I wasn't either. I set my mother's boyfriend on fire and I shot and killed fifteen kids at my school. I raped my ex-girlfriend's mother and killed the gay couple that lived here before her. I wasn't strong enough mentally and I snapped," he said.

"I want to die," I said and he laughed.

"I want to live."

"Charlotte, wake up." Someone shook me around and I squinted at them. My mother was standing above me, a worried look on her face. "Your principal called today and said you skipped school."

"I couldn't do it, mom. Please, don't make me go back." She sighed and sat on the bed. She stroked my hair and hummed an unfamiliar tune, neither of us really wanting to deal with reality.

"I'll sign you up for online school tomorrow. For now, just get some sleep. You look tired," she said finally. She began to stand, but I grabbed her hand.

"You should get some sleep, too. We're both tired." She laid down on the bed with me and nodded. She fell asleep quickly, but I couldn't. So many things ran through my head. I closed my eyes and tried clearing my mind. The strain made me exhausted, but my mind just wouldn't stop going. I felt the familiar calloused fingers and my mind just stopped, allowing me my sleep.


End file.
